


Making Use

by Monocytogenes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monocytogenes/pseuds/Monocytogenes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"“You’re warm,” she says, by way of explanation."</p>
<p>Stranded together on a chilly planet, Rey and Hux find that it isn't so difficult to call a temporary truce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Use

She starts a fire with a battery and some liquid fuel from her wrecked ship, burning pine needles and the driest branches she can find. He watches her lug a piece of hull to the enclosure, positioning the shiny steel behind them to reflect the heat, and when she sits she draws her knees to her chest, shuddering in the chill. She keeps her distance, staying downwind of the rocks but too far for him to grab, and the stiff arch of her back communicates her unease. She doesn’t trust him, and given the circumstances, he doesn’t blame her.  
  
She’s wearing a jacket designed more for wind resistance than warmth, and since he can feel the seeping cold on his back even through the wool of his coat, he imagines she must be freezing. They’d agreed an hour ago to sleep in shifts, alternately tending the blaze, and as she is she’ll run the risk of frostbite if she catches any rest, what with the inevitable drop in body temperature. Images from his academy courses rise to mind—photographs of blackened toes and crumbling skin—and he recoils from the thought, the uncomfortable fact that he’d be at a sore disadvantage here were she injured. His knowledge of how to cope in the wilderness is spotty, left fragmented by the passage of years.  
  
She, on the other hand, has spent a lifetime as a survivor.  
  
“Rey,” he calls, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and holding it out to her. “Come here.”  
  
Rey regards him suspiciously.  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures her, in a tone more exasperated than gentle. “I’d be a fool to try, considering what you did to Ren.”  
  
“How do I know you won’t take the chance to grab my saber?” she asks.  
  
“How do I know you won’t attempt to manipulate my mind?” he retorts.  
  
She considers that. “I don’t even know if that would work. You could be resistant somehow.”  
  
“What utility would there be in harming you? At the very least, I don’t fancy the idea of staying awake all night to keep the fire lit.” He beckons to her again. “If you must doubt something, don’t let it be my pragmatism. Right now, you’re a resource. I intend to make use of you.”  
  
“That’s comforting,” Rey mutters.  
  
After another moment’s hesitation, she crawls closer, only enough to grab his coat from his gloved hands. She slips her arms through it, wrapping the fabric about her like a blanket. Gradually, her shivering lessens, her toned frame relaxing by increments.  
  
Hux draws nearer to the fire, turning in an attempt to better warm himself, feeling the icy air settling through to his bones. He catches Rey studying his movements, looking rather childlike amidst the folds of the voluminous garment, and edges over to her.  
  
“Don’t slice me open,” he orders, settling beside her and lifting the coat. Underneath, her fingers are balanced on her lightsaber, but he doesn’t attempt to pull them away, merely draping the fabric over himself as well, his bent legs and folded arms pressed awkwardly against her side.  
  
Minutes pass in that way. Rey doesn’t protest, and he tries not to look at her, focusing instead on the flickering flames and the crisp, clear sky. At one point, her neck arches, following the flash of a meteorite, a thin, white trail zipping between pinpricks of light.  
  
Hux points to a particularly bright object, not far from the vanishing stream. “I think that may be Coruscant.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Based on our location, I think it ought to appear in that region of the sky. I’m not certain.”  
  
“I used to know where everything was from Jakku,” Rey recalls. “Dozens of stars, planets. All the local constellations.”  
  
“Did you invent any?” She regards him oddly, and he adds, “When I was a child I’d make up my own constellations. I enjoyed picking out patterns.”  
  
Rey is briefly pensive, then says, “There was one that looked like a steelpecker. It seemed to have talons.”  
  
“That’s more creative than most of mine were. I pictured the majority as the outlines of old Imperial ships.”  
  
“I dug through enough of those on the ground,” Rey murmurs with a snort. “There wasn’t much left to imagine.”  
  
“I do suppose there can’t be much romance in rusted-out salvage.”  
  
Rey shrugs. “I was glad it was there. It kept me alive.”  
  
Hux stretches, the discomfort of his posture having begun to make him ache. As he settles in again, adjusting his grasp on the coat, Rey’s arm circles his waist. He glances at her, surprised by the gesture.  
  
“You’re warm,” she says, by way of explanation.  
  
“So are you,” he observes.  
  
“You’re right, you know,” she remarks. “You’d be foolish to try to attack me. You’re skinnier than I thought you were—I could knock you right over.”  
  
A flush rises to Hux’s cheeks. “I’d dispute that, but I don’t wish to encourage you.”  
  
Rey smirks. Her head dips, finding a resting place against his shoulder, and he can feel the tension recede from her. She nestles in, and some loose strands of her hair brush against the skin above his collar, a sensation that strikes him as oddly pleasant.  
  
“You should sleep,” he tells her, and if he’s tipping his head a little to rest his cheek against that smooth hair—well, who is he to not make use of it?  
  
“I will,” she promises, and closes her eyes.


End file.
